Page 9 of Poison and Wine
Carmine’s lips curled into a sneer. “Who do you think he’ll believe? A well-respected Made Man like myself who brings much to the table, or the girl who is so desperate not to marry that she would say or do anything not to make it happen?”
And as I had cowered there on the floor, I knew he was right. In that moment, the old Caterina had splintered into jagged pieces. Without a handsome prince to whisk me away, I’d been forced to put myself back together again.
I had to rescue myself.
I’d refused to be nothing more than a powerful man’s wife or a breeding machine for his heirs. I’d refused to live with bruises on my body from being beaten or raped by husband. I’d refused to let my life be controlled by a man.
Instead, I’d turned to the sisterhood. In spite of attending mass religiously, anyone who knew me would’ve never fathomed I could possibly join a convent. Since I reveled in loud music, designer clothes, and an occasional alcoholic drink, I wasn’t what one imagined in a potential woman of the cloth.
Within a career you make personal sacrifices in order to adhere to the expectations of a company or your boss. I’d done the same thing when I’d joined the Sacred Heart.
Even though I’d come from immense wealth, I wasn’t so spoiled that I couldn’t take the vow of poverty. With a controlling father and an emotionally absent mother, I’d witnessed firsthand how money didn’t buy happiness.
While it had been expected of me to always play by the rules, I’d never rebelled until it came to marrying Carmine. In that respect, the vow of obedience wasn’t an issue either.
And as for the one so identified with being a nun, I was as chaste as they came. Like everything in my life, my virginity wasn’t my own. It belonged to my future husband. To ensure that I was pure, I never had an encounter with a guy that wasn’t chaperoned. I’d managed one brief kiss with a boy from school, but that was it. I was completely untouched by men.
Two and a half years had passed since I’d escaped to the sisterhood. Some days it felt like just yesterday while others felt like decades had passed. My choice still enraged my father as well as my former fiancé. Since the only thing my father truly feared in life was God, he hadn’t dared to force me leave the order. Instead, he’d told me I was dead to him, which I felt was a willing sacrifice to make to earn my freedom.
After I finished the book to a round of hugs from the children, I followed their mothers to the door where I locked it for the night. Before I could start putting away misplaced items, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Because of our remote location, it was necessary for the four of us sisters to keep a phone. When I dug it out, happiness rippled through me as I eyed the screen.
Once I swiped the answer button, I grinned at the faces of my three brothers. Tall, impossibly built, and devastatingly handsome was how they were described in the newspapers and social media in New York. But to me, they were the kindest and most wonderful big brothers any girl could ever ask for.
At twenty-eight, Raphael, or Rafe, was the oldest followed by Leandro, or Leo, at twenty-six, and then Gianni at twenty-five. All three had jet black hair, onyx eyes, and bulging muscles earned not just from workouts in the gym. They were all Made Men, and each held an important rank in the Famiglia.
“Hey guys!”
“Happy Birthday!” they shouted in unison.
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my cheeks. “Thank you. You don’t know how much it means to hear from family today.”
Although this was the third birthday I’d experienced in the order, I still wasn’t used to spending it away from the outside world. Growing up, my parents had thrown lavish birthday parties with hundreds of guests, tables of food, and outlandish party themes like an amusement park on our back lawn. But their efforts were more a show of our wealth than love for their children.
“I can’t believe our baby sister is twenty-one,” Raphael commented.
Gianni nodded. “It makes me feel so old.”
I snorted. “Like you’re so much older than me, G.”
“But being twenty-one means you’re not a baby anymore, Kitty Cat,” Gianni replied.
“Ugh, do not call me by that old nickname.”
The boys chuckled at my outrage. For as long as I could remember, they’d tortured me with the nickname. As a child, it was only mildly annoying, but it was the bane of my existence as a teenager. Wanting to change the subject, I asked. “How’s Mom?”
Leo rolled his eyes. “Keeping the boutiques and fine restaurants in business with her excessive shopping excursions and social lunches.”
I laughed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Growing up, my mother resembled the epitome of an ice princess Mafia wife. The boys and I had always been closer to our nanny, Talia. She raised us like we were her own. Since entering the order, my mother hadn’t contacted me, but I spoke to Talia at least once or twice a month.
“We have big news,” Rafe pronounced.
My brows popped in surprise. “One of you is getting married?”
When a chorus of grunts and groans came back to me, I cocked my head at them. “Seriously? I can’t believe Father has let you all stay bachelors this long, especially you Rafe.”
With a roll of his eyes, Rafe replied, “You know how Father has always said a man shouldn’t tie himself down before thirty. His sole focus should be on the Familigia.”